My Darling, The Black Vial
by Draco's Felix
Summary: When you're young, 'war and trials over' generally translates to 'lets get drunk'. Drunken group apparition and a good night indeed, both Harry and Draco wake up to some significant shocks, and even more significant gaps in memory. Almost crack, but may span into something else :3 Set not long after Voldy goes mouldy, features a very wild Hermione. On hiatus, but will be finished!
1. Shame and dresses

Pounding head. Sign of a good night.

Memory blackouts. Expected.

Feeling sick. Explainable.

Taste of potions in his throat. Dangerous.

...

Draco opened his eyes.

...

Wearing a dress. _Not_ a good night.

Granger asleep on his chest. Horror.

Lying on a kitchen counter. Why?

Chained to a sink tap. Very, very dangerous.

...

Panic surged through Draco. As quietly as possible, he tried navigating the handcuffs around the knobs and handles of the sink, but it was no use – he was stuck. He needed other ideas. As he sighed and looked around the rest of the kitchen, his heart stopped. Potter was staring at him with wide eyes.

...

* * *

Harry happily snuggled Ginny, who was lying in his arms. He could feel her warmth though her satin dress. Her hair was soft against his face. Soft like the sheets the bed. His bed.

Grimmauld Place. He hasn't yet bothered to open his eyes but he was almost sure that's where they were. He remembered the entire party coming back there after The Funky Buddha nightclub. Drunken group apparition – a fun and very dangerous game.

That had been at about one thirty in the morning. Past that things got sketchy. There had been a lot of strangers – the strays as George had called them.

Harry tried to collect his memories.

War and trials over, the golden trio and friends righteously decided it was time to celebrate. It had started off fairly tame; they'd gone to the Leaky Cauldron, had a few Butterbeers and a couple of Firewhiskeys, laughed, danced a little. After a while it started to seem like half the wizarding world was flocking into the Leaky Cauldron, until the place was bursting to the brim. Unfortunately for Harry, most of that brim wanted to thank, hug, kiss and generally harass him. A kind (and very drunk) Hufflepuff had diligently announced she was stealing 'Potter and crew', rescuing them and taking them all back to her place. An hour and a bit too much alcohol later, they'd come up with a party theme – Deatheaters. They'd all transfigured themselves a mask and then a fervent competition had started to see who could make theirs look the most ridiculous. Neville was winning until a blonde in a very short dress arrived and insisted on snogging the living daylight out of him – Harry thought he had looked pretty happy to start losing.

Luna had arrived with the blonde girl, Lion hat in tow, as well as many other people, some who Harry recognised, some who Harry didn't, and most who were hidden behind their kooky masks. One of the latter, a dark-skinned boy, had taken off his mask and come smiling towards Harry.

"Hey, Potter! Good to see you looking well and intoxicated!" he had said, patting Harry on the back. Harry had thought he looked a lot like Blaise Zabini, but was too drunk to care. It hadn't got better after that point, as the boy had given Harry a vial of something florescent blue. When questioned on the matter, he simply winked and replied, "Just a little something to pep you up for the rest of the night!"

Ever the brave Gryffindor, Harry had downed it. It sure had pepped him up, but it was most certainly _not_ pepper-up potion. There had been radiant stars and beautiful colours, and it had made Harry run around in circles, do a crazy dance with Lovegood, and then cry about how wonderful it all was.

Of course, everyone else had found it beyond hysterical. There would be photos and reminders around every corner – Harry was sure. But what he had done did not compare to Ron and Hermione. Oh no. They were in a league of their own. Ron had drank one vial, and very gingerly, but Hermione, intoxicated and completely wild, had downed 3 blue ones and 6 pink ones, all one after the other. After that, she had began flirting with inanimate objects, but after spotting Ron, grabbed him, and announced, with the most determination Harry had ever seen, that they were going to make a baby. Ron had looked horrified and had done his best to escape, only saved by the fact that he had attempted to fly without a broom. Needless to say, he had failed and the end result was him breaking his nose off the floor.

Luna, nose fixer extraordinaire, had swiftly repaired Ron's unfortunate nose, accompanied by a dreamy "There, all gone!" But Ron, misunderstanding, had writhed around on the floor, screaming: "No! No! I cannot live without my nose! Without it, I shall be like Voldemort, and I hate snakes!"

If they could have stopped laughing for long enough, perhaps someone would have informed Ron that he and his nose were still at one with one another.

After that, Hermione insisted they immediately go to a muggle nightclub for dances and yet more drinks, and while most of the Hufflepuffs stayed behind, a large coalition of the group had happily went in the search of London nightlife and continued intoxication. They'd apparated successfully, and it was nothing short of a miracle that nobody got splinched.

After finding their way to the Funky Buddha, they had been granted VIP access thanks to the connections of an unknown masked member of the party – although Luna and her lion hat did get some really cautious looks from the bouncers. Whoever got them in must have had some serious leverage.

They didn't stay for long, however. Their strange vials and wild antics were not going unnoticed, and someone very wisely suggested they be moving on, also suggesting they not bring so many people this time. Harry couldn't remember who it was, but Harry did remember their voice was familiar as the sun and so had followed their orders. He picked his Gryffindors, a few puffs and eagles, and part of the group of masked people Luna had brought. They seemed cool and partied harder than anyone Harry had ever met; plus a couple of them had showed Harry how to dance in a way that didn't make him look like he was impersonating Filch or a chicken. Hermione sulked at the prospect of leaving but at the promise of even quirkier potions she perked up.

If lightening could strike twice then so could miracles, and all 20 or so of them had managed to retain their body parts after apparating to an alley near Grimmauld Place. That being said, lightening must be able to strike 5 times at least, because Harry made 4 trips in order to get everyone there. He threw up at least twice.

Once inside, there was music, more alcohol, and to Hermione's delight, more colourful potions; although Harry had no idea where any of those things came from. It was a Merlin-send the place was sound-proof, because the neighbours would have probably called the police else. His memory was disturbingly blank after that. There was only one more thing that Harry remembered.

He was stumbling around a dark corridor, and tripped – but someone caught him. Harry had ended up clutching onto the person for dear life, his face buried in their black silk shirt.

"Careful Potter, just because Lord No-Nose didn't manage it, doesn't mean you have to kill yourself off," the person had said, "And if I'm honest, some of us like having you around."

It was the familiar voice again. Harry smiled, and mumbled into the shirt, "Everyone likes having me around. It's kinda annoying actually."

The familiar voice ruffled his hair, and after that, everything was blank.

...

* * *

Ginny moved slightly in Harry's arms, making him snapped back to the present. She made a small noise like a cute little animal, and Harry found her lips, kissing her quickly.

"Mmmmm,_ 'Mione_..." came Ginny's voice. Except it was not Ginny's at all. Harry's eyes snapped open. Ron was laying in front of him, in Ginny's dress no less.

How? What? Why? Where was Ginny anyway? Not to mention he'd just given Ron a quick snog!

Horrified, Harry slowly crawled out of the bed, being careful not to wake Ron. He looked down at himself. Oh Merlin. He was wearing nothing but hot pink sparkly panties, which were definitely not his own. He creeped over to his wardrobe and opened his underwear draw. Empty. Where were all his boxers? He checked the rest of his wardrobe but to no avail: all his clothes were gone. He found a single black silk shirt on the floor and put it on. He was sure it belonged to the familiar voice, but his main concern was hoping that it was long enough to conceal at least some of his dignity.

After that he made for the bathroom: he had the foul taste of potions in his mouth and needed to wash it out. But on his way there his eyes stumbled upon the contents of the neighbouring room – the door wide open.

Neville was lying in the middle of the bed like a king, stark naked. There was a girl in boxers lying on top of him, covering his dignity and protecting Harry's eyes from some things he really did _not _want to see. There were at least 6 other girls scattered on the bed – all in Harry's underwear. That explained a lot. But what Harry could not explain is why Gregory Goyle appeared to be curled up to Neville in the most girly way possible. Not to mention the bright pink skirt he was wearing.

Patterns were staring to form in Harry's head. Patterns involving Slytherins and cross-dressing games. This couldn't be good. He sighed and closed the door. Onward to the bathroom he went.

He approached the door gingerly – who knew what kind of surprises could be waiting for him in there? He opened it very slowly and peaked inside. Toilet roll everywhere and a dark, high-heeled foot poking out from the bathtub, but it looked safe to enter on the whole.

He tip-toed toward the sink and quietly rinsed his mouth. Potions taste nearly gone, he gently slithered over to the bathtub to inspect its occupants, who were largely concealed by a blanket. Harry pulled the blanket down a little. It was the dark-skinned boy from last night. And it was most definitely Blaise Zabini. What was Zabini doing in his bathtub? Pulling the blanket down further, Harry discovered he was wearing Hermione's Gryffindor red dress (to match the shoes, no doubt). Harry also found Ginny. The last time he had checked, Ginny was _his _girlfriend. Why was she curled up next to Zabini in her underwear? What in Merlin's name had happened last night? Why the hell had Harry let a hoard of Slytherins into his house? The house was unplottable, so there was no way they could have got in themselves; Harry must have brought them with him. Harry realised he was too confused to be angry, or even really care, about the whole Ginny/Zabini/bathtub situation, and left.

At the bottom of the stairs he found Pansy Parkinson, who appeared to be wearing the entirety of Harry's wardrobe as well as Luna's Lion hat. George was snuggled up to her, wearing only girly underwear and suspenders. That was almost as much of a disturbing sight as Neville and Goyle. Harry was seriously wondering if they had all drank a potion that made you want to cuddle up to your enemies. He stepped over them carefully.

He walked to the kitchen, thinking that he really needed to find Luna. She brought the masked people... the Slytherins. Had she not known who they were? She couldn't have known, there was no way Luna and the Slytherins could ever-

Harry's heart stopped.

Malfoy.


	2. I take advantage of my magical trousers!

Harry had seen 4 men in womanly attire since he woke up, but for some reason, the sleeping Malfoy looked the most shocking. The dress he was wearing _had _to belong to belong to a Slytherin; there was no way any of the other 3 houses could ever find a shop that stocked anything so short, tight and well... _revealing_.

Draco was chained to the sink with two handcuffs: one for each wrist. Hermione was asleep next to him, her head on his chest, but he barely even registered her. Before seeing Malfoy stretched out in a dress that barely covered anything, he never realised men could have such curves. Really, that whole dress was like two strips of fabric joined together by a third down the front so it couldn't be called a bikini or underwear. Harry couldn't grasp it, but on Malfoy it looked... well, he couldn't find the words, but he couldn't stop looking, either. He'd never seen Draco asleep or half naked, but he looked almost-

The boy moved a little, and Harry froze. Malfoy stirred and opened his eyes, observing his situation in horror. He tried the handcuffs, but they did their job well. Sighing, his eyes moved across the kitchen and met Harry's with wide alarm, before they flitted past him and onto something behind him.

Harry had been so busy being, er, shocked, that he hadn't notice Hannah Abbott swander into the kitchen.

"Hey Malfoy, after Harry's done staring at it, can I have my dress back please?" She said, casting smirking glances between the two of them.

Apparently, Harry had been very wrong about his Slytherin dress theory.

"Where did you ever _find _something that... that..." Harry blurted before he could stop himself, instantly regretting ever letting his mouth open and tongue move.

Hannah laughed. "Like my dress then?" She grinned ever wider, "You know what, keep the dress. I have a feeling you and Malfoy can make a lot better use of it than me! I'll just borrow one of your cousin's old shirts, Merlin knows they're long enough to pass for a dress!"

Harry's eyes flitted to Malfoy, who looked as blank as Harry felt, but only for a moment. Malfoy quickly found himself again.

"Whatever that meant, no thank you, you can have this thing back right as soon as I get my trousers back, and pry my shirt off Potter." He said, voice full of venom.

"This is yours?" Harry blurted sheepishly, running the silk collar between in fingertips. It was the softest thing he'd ever touched.

Malfoy ignored him. "Oh, and also maybe after someone _unchains me from this goddamn sink!_" He hissed. He had practically been screaming, his whole face a baby shade of pink; and Hermione began to awake and stir.

Both boys tensed. If Harry had been horrified to find Malfoy in his kitchen, god knows how Hermione would react waking up _on _him.

But then she did something neither of them expected: she sighed lightly, and simply mumbled, "Malfoy, I know it's a life-long habit of your pure-blood arse to yell at Harry, but you're going to actually have to be _nice _to him if you want this to work. And it's already turned my life on its head to accept that you're not a _total _wanker, so a little help from your end would be appreciated."

Malfoy was so shocked, he couldn't say a word. Eventually, Hermione lifted her head sleepily and giggled a little at seeing his handcuffs.

"We'd better get those off." She said, looking at the handcuffs then around her, "Have you seen my wand, Harry?"

"Er, no," he replied, "I don't really know where mine is to be honest."

"Oh, I forgot, someone took them off us." She said, remembering, "I'll go find them."

She climbed over Malfoy, and headed for the door. Hannah joined her, and loudly announced: "Here, let me help you look for those wands, _Hermione._" Both girls walked off, giggling for some reason.

So that was how Harry and Malfoy were left looking oddly at each other in total disorientation. Hannah had been confusing. But Hermione? That was something else entirely. What could have possibly made her change her mind on Malfoy so fast? No doubt the boy was thinking exactly the same thing.

The girls were away for about 10 minutes, and Harry had spent the entire time trying not to stare at Draco. The whole situation was positively surreal, and Harry just didn't know how to react.

To his unbounded joy, Hermione and Hannah finally returned; with friends and enemies in tow. Not that they acted that way. Members of all four of the houses were chatting animatedly with each other: Susan Bones, Goyle and his pink skirt; George and the Patil twins; Blaise, the red dress and Ginny, who was wrapped in a blanket; Katie Bell and Pansy (who still looked ridiculous, but at least she'd taken the Lion hat off). She'd handed it to George, which made him look fantastically insane, as if the suspenders and bra weren't already enough. Ron trailed them, looking entirely traumatised at the sight of his brother, and pretty much everything else by the looks of it, too.

"This is everyone we could coax out of bed... Or off their comfy spots on the floor, in some cases." Said Hermione, looking somewhat surprised at Harry and Draco, although neither could work out why.

"Did you find our wands?" Asked Harry.

"Er, sort of..." she said, shifting her weight.

"After we found out the Slytherins were... well, Slytherins, we thought a fight might break out." Said Susan, "So we collected everyone's wands, saying it was a party game, and hid them in Blaise's enchanted pockets, because I had his trousers. We left his wand out so we could get them back, of course..."

"_And?_" Barked Draco.

"...And we don't really remember where we put it." Admitted Hannah rather guiltily.

"Sorry Malfoy, looks like you'll be chained to that sink a little longer." Said Hermione. Draco sighed.

"I think we're missing something very important here." He said heftily. "Precisely w_hy _am I chained to a bloody sink in the first place?"

Everyone in the room went silent and turned their eyes to Harry.

"What?" he said, "Why are you all looking at me?"

Everyone was silent for a moment longer then they burst out laughing. Then they turned to look at Draco, who was equally as confused as Harry, and laughed even harder, some barely holding back tears.

"Last night Harry, don't you remember?"

"Er, no actually, not really. I mean, I remember going out, but I can barely remember anything after we apparated here. I'm still confused about why there are Slytherins in my house."

"I'm equally confused about why I'm in Potter's house." Malfoy piped up.

"Oh no." Groaned Blaise, "We slipped them the black vial..."

Malfoy's jaw dropped. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING _KILL YOU _BLAISE ZABINI! MARK MY FUCKING WORDS! KILL YOU!"

He writhed around on the tabletop, handcuffs clanging against the sink. Everyone but Harry seemed to find it positively hysterical, even Hermione, who was stifling her giggles.

"Er guys," Harry prompted loudly, "what's the black vial?"

"My darling, the _black _vial" said Pansy in the most theatrical way known to man, "is a potion designed to unlock some of the deepest desires of the heart, making them almost irresistible to act upon. Served with just a hint of Veritaserum, it will make your heart come alive and your mind obey. Unfortunately, most of the time that means act like a barmy fool in the process, which is why Draco is refusing to look at us."

"Says the girl wearing the entirety of Potter's wardrobe!" Said Blaise – but Harry barely heard him.

Draco had indeed turned his face away from them to stop them from seeing his burning cheeks; but his embarrassment could be seen as clear as night – his whole body was ablush, setting that flawless expanse of pearly skin alight...

"Man, Potter's got it _bad._" Said Blaise, and Harry snapped back to real life.

"I can't believe we never saw it before." Agreed Hermione – what was she talking about?

"Sixth year should have been a clue." Added Ron, eyeing Harry disapprovingly.

That was the last straw for Harry.

"What are you all on about?" he barked at them. Silence befell.

"Well someone's gotta tell them." Said Ginny eventually.

"Dibs!" Yelled Katie, and suddenly the whole kitchen fell into chaotic chatter.

"Why do you get to tell them!" Someone whined.

"Because Draco near killed me with that curse," she countered, "and I know he apologised, but this is like a really funny revenge."

Harry's eyes met Draco's momentarily, and it seemed to be as much as a surprise to him as it was to Harry that he'd apologised.

"We should tell them separately, as a safety precaution..." Hermione's voice carried.

"We should film it!" Someone else suggested.

"We could just not tell them," moaned Ron, "I liked Harry when he was-"

"Shhhhh! You're ruining it!" snapped Ginny at her brother, and then raising her voice she added, "And I get to tell Harry. You know why. It was unfair on me, so we'll all be even."

"But you and Bla-" Pansy began, but Blaise shushed her, grinning widely. "Have a sense of irony, Pans!" He whispered to her, and she lit up with a small smile and nodded.

"Okay. So it's decided. Katie gets to tell Draco, Ginny tells Harry." Hermione said, and everyone quieted down. "But a couple more questions first. Why can't they remember anything and why have I never heard of this potion before? And where _did _all those potions and so much firewhiskey come from?"

"Blaise has bottomless pockets." Draco said, speaking for the first time in a while, "When I say he had a whole potions lab down there, I mean it; and he could pretty much open a bar, too."

"Isn't that illegal?" Asked Hermione disapprovingly. Harry found himself surprised that she hadn't already ran to the library to check.

"No," Draco smiled, "it's simply... frowned upon. Like licking the Minister of Magic or charming hats to chase people."

"_Actually,_" began Hermione, "that _is _illegal. It was banned in 1703 because the hats bega-"

"Why don't the bottles break?" Interrupted Harry.

"Permanent pole levitation enchantments that focus relative to the direction of gravity."

Harry hadn't understood a word of that, but it seemed to animate Hermione.

"Ooooo, that's clever!" She beamed.

Harry scratched his head. Draco took pity on him.

"The pretty vials float in magical space until you accio them, Potter."

"So you just use a summoning spell to retrieve them?" Hermione went on.

"Logically. But they only respond to Blaise, and the pockets are protected by a Sinclorpus enchantment so they're pretty much impossible to get into. Living in Slytherin, you really have to protect your stuff or else it vanishes."

"That's very true." Added Pansy, "As for the memory lapses... we don't know why that happens. We've tried fixing it, but we can't. There's actually a long-time standing competition... whoever fixes that gets the potion named after them, since we don't actually know who originally created it."

"As far as we know, it's been around for hundreds of years." Said Blaise, grinning. "Hogwarts legend and Slytherin secret. You won't have heard of it because, well, sorry Granger, but you'd of ran to the professors quicker than you could say 'The Slytherins have a secret potion'!"

"But you were kinda cool last night, so we reckon its okay to tell you." Said Pansy.

"By which she means we've got blackmail material on you, Granger!" Called Draco from his end of the room. Pansy batted her eyelashes.

"Would I ever?" She said, face charmed with her innocent facade.

Hermione blushed. "Last night was..."

"Awesome!" Ginny stepped in. "You should really let yourself be wild more often Hermione."

There was a cry of agreement from almost everyone in the room.

"But I..." Hermione began weakly.

"But you embarrassed yourself, acted in a disorderly manner, blah blah blah." Everyone turned in utter surprise to Goyle, who had spoken for the first time. The Slytherins looked like they'd been slapped, but Goyle went on: "Did you have fun?"

"I suppose, but-"

"That's all that matters then, isn't it? Have you ever seen the Slytherins behave like they did last night? Ever hear them be that friendly?"

"Well no but..."

"Most of the time they're all cold and mean, all about politics, but when they go out, they're nice to everyone and don't even expect anything back. Nights like that are about relaxing and just _letting go_. Yeah, maybe they'll tease you for a while, but everyone does crazy stuff, and no one holds it against you. You may think it's bad, but actually, it's good for the soul." Goyle finished, and everyone stared at him in awe. When had Goyle found a voice? And a brain?

"That was almost deep, Goyle, but you make us sound like Hufflepuffs!" Giggled Pansy.

"The Hufflepuffs were more wild than you last night!" Said Ron, "And Goyle has a point, you know."

Ron Weasley. Standing up for Gregory Goyle. What on earth had gone down last night? Harry almost wished he could remember.

"Oh, Harry!" Luna's voice suddenly came from behind him, and he spun around. "I've been looking for those!"

Harry looked down to where her gaze was resting. Oh. The pants.

"Bright pink? Wise girl. Nargles hate pink. Too bright for them, I reckon."

The speaker was a handsome and tall young man with dark hair and brown eyes. He was built like an athlete and smiling brightly at Luna, before quickly kissing her on the lips. Harry was quite surprised to find Luna had a boyfriend, but clearly not as surprised as Ron, who let out a loud gasp.

"Oh Merlin." Ron gawped, "You're Alistair Baxtic, the Tutshill Tornados chaser!"

Harry recognised him now – Ron was right. He hadn't really seen the guy last night.

"Really? You never told me you play Quidditch!" Luna said brightly.

"Never told you he plays Quidditch! He's a legend!" Said Ron in disbelief, waving his hands for emphasis.

Alistair shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah," he admitted, "I'm not really that comfortable with the fame, though."

Ron looked at his feet, a bit ashamed to have brought it up.

"When did you get here, Alistair? I don't remember you from last night." Asked Ginny suddenly.

"Oh, I was under a Glamour. Don't really like to get recognised, see. Usually attract the wrong kind of girl, too." He said, smiling at Luna again.

"We met last night. I already told him it was probably a side effect of the Felix Felicis, but he insists that he still likes me!" Said Luna honestly.

"Liquid Luck?" Questioned Harry, "Why would you need liquid luck?"

"I felt sorry for the Slytherins, see," she said dreamily, "since I know how it feels to be an outsider. Because of the war, everyone would dislike them, even though it's not _really_ their fault. I just wanted everyone to get along. I realised nobody would ever listen to me, and what I really needed was a bit of luck. It worked splendidly, I do think. Especially for you and Draco, Harry."

"Isn't she wonderful?" Said Alistair, kissing Luna's forehead. The man was obviously besotted with her.

"You used Felix Felicis to make Gryffindors and Slytherins get along?" Asked Harry in disbelief. Luna nodded.

"Girl should have been a Slytherin, man." Said Blaise, shaking his head, "That's _sneaky!_"

"And what did you mean by 'especially for me and Draco'?" Questioned Harry further, hoping to finally get some answers.

Luna opened her mouth, but Hermione got there first. "Draco and Harry don't remember anything from last night." She said quickly. "We were about to explain to them what happened after we got here."

"Oh. Why don't you use a Pensieve?" Luna asked.

"That's not a bad idea, actually. But where would we get a Pensieve?" Replied Padma Patil, stepping out of the crowd. Luna nodded her head towards Blaise.

"You have a Pensieve?" Hermione splintered.

Blaise shrugged. "I take advantage of my magical trousers." He said simply, adding: "But we need to find them first."

He glided a hand over Hermione's red dress in emphasis. He'd somehow made it down the stairs with the heels on, too, but how was entirely beyond Harry.

And so, half the group took off in search of Blaise's magical trousers and missing wand, taking Harry with them; whilst Katie Bell and her "audience" made themselves comfortable, situated around the very much objecting Draco.

Katie, who'd snuggled herself on the worktop beside Draco, was grinning widely as Harry left, and as he was dragged up the stairs, he heard her begin: "Now where shall I start? I think I'll start by telling you about how Ron broke into the pantry and found you looking for chocolate sauce and cream, because, and I quote, _I need an excuse to lick-_"

Hermione pulled Harry into the bathroom and shut the door, grinning mischievously. Something quite strange was going on, and Harry _still _hadn't worked out what. But he would – very, very soon.

* * *

**A/N: I'd love to know what you think! If you'd be kind enough to leave me a comment or critique, I'd be delighted. I know it's not exactly a **_**serious **_**story so you can't really comment on storyline integrity, but tell me how my writing style is coming long. If I use italics too much or something! XD I love you all and thank you ever so for reading! **


	3. Hamsters, Hermione and a Homage to Ron

Harry opened his mouth to demand to know exactly what was going on, but as soon as he had done so, a terrible scream came from upstairs.

Hermione was out of the bathroom door first and Harry raced up the stairs after her, all the way up to the third floor, to where they could hear the screaming.

They burst into the master bedroom, and although the screaming had now stopped, all Harry could manage to utter was: "What in the name of Merlin's great and shabby beard..."

In front of him, clad only in very expensive looking trousers, was a life-size white-marble statue of Ron. He had one hand on his waist, and the other pointing theatrically to the sky, and the look upon his face was one that he might use if he had just won the Quidditch cup.

"Blimey," said Harry, "that _is_ terrifying."

If he was honest, Harry felt a bit like he wanted to scream himself. The Patil twins, however, were giggling uncontrollably, poking one another and whispering. Eventually, Padma stepped forward, and in a barely whisper asked: "Hermione, we, erm, were just wondering... is that... is that statue all, you know, to life scale?"

Hermione blushed awkwardly. "Well, er, yes, I think so. From what I remember I transfigured it from a vase to look exactly like him so-"

"Oh, there they are!" Said Blaise, who had just come into the room. He was making his way towards the strange Ron creature, reaching to take the trousers off-

"NO!" The twins screamed suddenly in unison.

"No?"

"He's not decent underneath the trousers." Said Parvati, "And erm, he's well..."

"It's HUGE." Exclaimed Padma gleefully.

"Absolutely massive!" Her twin went on.

"What's huge?" Asked Harry, clueless as usual.

"His _trouser Slytherin._"

"Trouser Slytherin?"

"His trouser snake..."

"Trouser snake?"

"His little winkle, Harry!" Hermione burst, bright red now.

"There's nothing little about it, though!" Chimed the twins in unison. Hermione shot them a dirty look and they turned away giggling.

"So what," said Blaise, "we can't take the trousers off because we need to protect the dignity of Weasley's enormous-"

"Yes!" Exclaimed Hermione, "Now can we please stop talking about it?"

"Okay," sighed Blaise, "we can get the stuff out of the pockets while the trousers are on your, er, magnificently-endowed boyfriend. Although I'm telling you Granger, I'll need to see it to believe it."

Hermione looked like she was really to Crucio him.

"We still need to find the wand..." Said Harry desperately, trying to break the heavy tension.

"We found it!" Called Parvati.

"T'was tucked into the trousers!" Added her sister.

As they all giggled and Hermione brooded, Harry phased out, his mind smoking up and a memory forming. There was something he needed to remember, something he never wanted to forget... something hidden, a strange sensation upon his skin...

"Harry!" Hermione snapped her fingers in front of him angrily. "Pay attention, so we can get out of here!"

Harry sighed. He watched as Zabini muttered something under his breath, wand pointing at the trouser pockets. Wands shot out and he caught them, passing them to Hermione. He then continued to mutter until the pocket expanded and stretched: a large, thin Pensieve sliding out. He passed it to Harry before summoning three small wooden boxes, giving one to Padma and another to Parvati.

"Empty vials for memories," he said, adding with a smirk: "if we have time, Harry, I'll show you some real fascinating ones of Draco he doesn't know I have, you'll be really interested."

He winked at Harry and side-stepped him before Harry could reply, walking out onto the landing and yelling up the stairs: "Guys! Search is off! Trousers and wands have been found!"

Ron and Ginny came bouncing down the stairs, which set the Patil twins off into a whole new line of giggles, as Luna called from the floor below: "Oh! That's wonderful! By the way Harry, I didn't know you had pets!"

"I don't!" He called back.

He bounded down the stairs and found Luna holding a rather large rat, which appeared to be wearing a tiny pink dress and hat. The whole do-up reminded Harry strongly of Umbridge.

"What the-" Harry began, but Ron jumped to explain.

"Oh, sorry, that was my fault. I found that rat last night, checked it wasn't a bloody murderer or anything first. Put it in a dress, made me feel better. Blaise said it was probably something to do with suppressed feelings of hate towards the fact that the first pet I ever owned turned out to be the reason your parents are dead, or something. Really, it was you that should of been dressing up the rat, I guess."

"Slytherin therapy at its finest!" Laughed Blaise.

"It looks like..." Harry started.

"Umbridge." All eight of them had completed the sentence, and obviously the sentiment was undeniable.

"Looks like you have a pet, Harry!" Laughed Ginny.

"Fantastic." Said Harry sarcastically, "Just what I always wanted. A pet rat that embodies the memory of the two people in the world I may ever have hated more than Voldemort."

"Well if you don't want Dolores," asked Luna attentively, "can I have her?"

"Be my guest." Replied Harry, feeling immensely relieved and equally disturbed.

Ron was eyeing Dolores just as carefully.

"Well," resolved Hermione, "we'd better be rescuing Draco now."

With that, they set off for the kitchen, where they found that Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Daphne Greengrass had joined the group, and who were now in hysterics to the point of tears. That is, all except Draco, who looked furious and bright red. He appeared to be almost shaking in his anger, and refusing to look at anyone, but especially avoiding looking anywhere in Harry's general direction.

Hermione swiftly released him from his bonds, and such was his urgency to leave the room that he didn't even bother to collect his wand, pushing past everyone and bounding up the stairs.

This made the group only laugh louder, but something inside Harry seemed to fall. For some reason, some reason he just could not fathom, this was not okay with him anymore. There was anger and that lost tingling feeling on his skin, upon his neck and shoulders... And the others, they carried on laughing, a sound which almost killed that tingle which Harry was desperately trying to hold onto...

"ENOUGH!"

The room went deadly silent, and it was the silence Harry noticed before he realised the voice that had caused it was his own. He took advantage of it.

"Will _someone finally explain _what the hell happened last night?"

He slammed the Pensieve onto the table and crossed his arms, waiting.

Blaise sighed. "I was with them most of the night, I'd better go first."

He siphoned his memories and poured them into the Pensieve.

"And Harry..." He added, "I'm still a little dodgy at that so you might have to waffle through some stuff."

Harry nodded, and not caring anymore, entered into the memory.

He could hear music, music that he almost remembered from the night before. He watched as Blaise whispered something to Hermione, who was laughing loudly. Harry strained to hear them...

"I'm really glad you're here. We shouldn't divide ourselves like Voldemort would want us to." Hermione said kindly, "But I'm a little worried about Harry and Draco... they _hate _one another. If they find out that the other is here..."

"Believe me Hermione – is it ok for me to call you that? We've never really been..." Blaise looked hesitatingly at her.

"Yes, yes!" She laughed, "All is forgiven now I guess. Although I don't really know if it's me or the potions talking, and really, it doesn't matter so much anymore! Now, what were you saying?"

"I was going to say: believe me, Draco does not hate Potter, even if he claims to, even if he thinks he does."

"What do you mean?"

"Just... just trust me on this one, alright? And anyway, I've got something that might help their... situation..." Blaise smiled, his Slytherin side shining through.

Ron and Ginny had walked up to them in the memory. Ron kissed Hermione happily, and perhaps just a little territorially, as Blaise winked at Ginny and beckoned her away. Harry followed them as they walked to a dark corner, of which there were many in Grimmauld place.

"Hey, Gin," Blaise said, practically flirting, "can you lend me a hand?"

Harry frowned, but he wasn't surprised the Slytherin had the cheek to come onto someone else's girlfriend.

"Why, of course," she said, almost suggestively, "but don't forget, I have one too many boyfriends to lend you a hand with _some _things, you know."

"Maybe not for long." Muttered the spell-bound Slytherin under his breath, not taking his eyes off the Gryffindor girl.

She danced around him to the music, in a way that was perhaps just a little too sexy, smiling with teeth, tongues and all. "So what do you need a hand with, Zabini?"

"I need you to help me slip Draco a potion." He said, taking her hand and spinning the gorgeous girl around, "It'll help him get on with Potter better, so to speak."

"Doesn't sound like you need my help!" She laughed, "Just pass it to him, he looks like he'll drink anything at the moment!"

"Oh, but my dear fire-head beauty, that would defy the initiative of teamwork that would help bring the Slytherins and Gryffindors... closer."

He spun her into him, holding her close. Harry wanted to turn away, but not because he felt awkward watching someone have a private moment with _his _girlfriend, but mostly just because he felt like he was... intruding. It wasn't that he didn't care about Ginny, he just felt as if he'd already lost her, and perhaps he didn't want her back.

"So what does this potion do?" She said, looking up at him with big, brown eyes.

"Unlocks the deepest, darkest, desires of the heart, even those we never knew we had..."

He leaned down closer to her and...

Another Harry burst through the door, staggering around and laughing. Blaise and Ginny quickly split, which they really should have done before, as the room was full of people.

Sober-Harry watched as Blaise sighed laughingly and accio'd a little black vial from his pocket, keeping an eye on his memory-self. Merlin this was weird.

The Harry of the memory staggered across the room to Blaise, took one look at the little vial and said: "Ooooo, kooky mask man has more funny potions. What does this one do?"

Sober-Harry watched in horror as the other grabbed the little vial, uncorked it and downed it straight.

"That was a funny one," he said, patting is stomach, "but I feel better already! I feel like... I feel like... I feel like dancing! Hey, Hermione! Immediately detach yourself from Ronald and transfigure me a pole!"

"A pole?" She called back, arms still around an annoyed looking Ron.

"I wanna pole dance!" He shrugged, turning it into a little hip-thrusting dance. He continued hip-thrusting toward Hermione and a terrified Ron, until she stopped giggling hysterically and transfigured him a pole that came out of the table and into the ceiling.

The other Harry climbed onto it, proclaiming its awesomeness, and stealing Neville's crazy, feathered Deatheater mask on the way, as he'd already lost his own.

He spun (very badly and not seductively at all) around the pole, cheered on by the occupants of the room. Sober-Harry firmly decided that he no longer wanted to know what happened the night before. This was going to scar him in ways Voldemort couldn't.

"What's going to happen to him?" The Ginny of the memory asked Blaise.

"Ahhh, not much," he replied, "he'll just act on impulse of the desires that harbour inside of him, both knowingly and unknowingly. Watch carefully, tonight his greatest urges will be revealed..."

"I WANT A PET HAMSTER... AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHY I'M YELLING THIS! WOOOO!" Screamed Harry as he swung around his pole. Sober-Harry cringed desperately.

Ginny laughed. "Greatest urges indeed."

"Don't worry," Blaise assured her, "as the night goes, his secret wants and needs will unravel as the potion seeps deeper and deeper, until his deepest desires will surface to his mind. And unless he has an unrelinquishable desire to Crucio one of us, the night should be incredibly fun. Not to mention... interesting."

"Wow," laughed Ginny, "this is such a Slytherin thing, isn't it?"

"Yeah..."

Hermione was now skipping towards them.

"Hey Zabini!" She said, "Got another vial like the one Harry just had? I want to want to dance like that!"

The boy laughed. "Trust me, that potion won't help you with that." He said, "That's Harry's hidden urges coming out. Here..."

He passed her a deep purple and sunset-orange vial... The colours swirling around one another but never mixing; "This'll make you wanna dance like that!"

She made a loud whooping noise and ran back to Ron, telling him to prepare himself. Sober-Harry found it especially scary to see her so out of character, but not as scary as to watch himself hang half-way upside down on a pole in the most clumsy way possible.

He saw Ginny slip away with a little black vial in her hand. She came back a minute later, just as memory-Harry was clambering off the "stage" of sorts, and she passed Blaise the empty vial, sniggering a little.

"That was _far _too easy. There is literally nothing Draco's wouldn't drink at the moment!" She said. "What now?"

"Now we wait." Replied her tall friend.

Hermione clambered onto the pole, spinning around and receiving a whole load of cat calls.

She tugged her dress off suggestively, as if the suggestive part was really necessary, and chucked it at Blaise, telling him to put it on.

He giggled like a girl, undressing and replying: "Whatever you want, lassie!"

Hermione proceeded to hoist herself up the pole, and sober-Harry had seen enough. He pulled out the memory.

"That was quick!" Someone said.

"Yeah, Hermione took her clothes off and I realised it was time to go."

Every boy in the room raised his eyebrow.

"Hetrosexual my arse." Muttered Ron under his breath. He silently passed a sickle to George, whose smile gloated loudly. They were stood behind Harry, who saw none of this.

"Maybe I should just go talk to Malfoy. It would be logical." Said Harry.

"That's if he didn't pass out at the sight of that magnificent homage to Ron!" Beamed George.

Harry ignored him. In truth, there was no logic behind his idea whatsoever. He still didn't really know what happened last night, and Malfoy did. It would be awkward. All Harry knew is that they'd drank some quirky potion. But for some, still unfathomable, reason, Harry just needed to talk to Draco. Like in sixth year he'd needed to keep an eye on him, now he just needed to see him. What a strange sensation it was to not be comfortable with the idea that the man you'd hated for so long was now alone and distressed.

Luckily for Harry, Pansy Parkinson had shed at least part of his wardrobe. Hannah was wearing one of Dudley's old and very long shirts, which explained why there was a pair of boxers to spare. They were lying on top of a neatly folded pile of a shirt and two trousers, one pair which looked very expensive and soft and so must have been Draco's.

He sighed, grabbed his stuff, the two wands, and headed out of the room.

"Keep siphoning your memories," he called to them, "_useful _ones this time."

He got half way up the stairs before the kitchen fell into hushed and desperate chatter. Harry stopped off at the bathroom, changing into his own clothes, glad to be out of Luna's tiny hot-pink panties.

He took off the shirt, running it through his fingers again... It was like water in his hands. He could smell expensive cologne radiating from it, and wondered what kind of girl Draco had hoped to attract when he'd put it on. Forlornly, he folded it and put it on top of Draco's trousers and wand. Except it wasn't Draco's wand. Harry still had that.

A happy idea in his mind, he raced to his bedroom, dumping Draco's stuff on the bed and pulling out his trunk. He rummaged through it, and sure enough, there he found that faithful, conflicted little Hawthorn wand. It was warm in his fingertips, not as temperature, but as _magic. _Perhaps he had won it off Draco, but it didn't belong to him and in his heart, Harry knew the wand was still loyal to Draco.

It was the strangest of things that Harry had never considered before, and now found him thinking about: Draco's wand had a Unicorn hair core... the most faithful of all wands and the one that was hardest to turn to the Dark Arts. On the surface, it would appear that this wand had gone against it's known nature, but Harry knew that not only was the wand still faithful to it's owner, but also much like it's owner, had not truly been turned by the Dark Arts. Harry _knew _that was not what Draco had wanted.

He knew because when he vanquished Voldemort with the very wand he was now holding, he could feel a different magic pulsing through him as well as his own: Draco's. He recognised that magic from all their duels and fights and generally from the years of _knowing _Draco. The magic that runs through wand and owner are the same: defining them. He felt that magic at the battle of Hogwarts. Draco fought him on the night but the wand did not: neither had been turned to the dark arts, neither was truly loyal to Voldemort. The situation had been far too dire for him to consider these small but powerful things on the night, but now, the more Harry thought about it, the more he knew it was true.

Once again, there was that feeling upon his skin, like a long lost memory, like a dream he couldn't remember... there was something yet to know... Harry ignored it's strange calls for attention.

Picking up Draco's clothes and his newly found wand, Harry raced around the house, checking all the rooms. On the very top floor, he found Sirius' door closed but not locked. Peeking inside, Harry saw someone curled under the sheets, shaking silently. Draco.

Harry quietly slid into the room and magically locked the door, then propped himself on the edge of the bed. He received a line of muffled curses and threats from under Sirius' duvet.

"The words that are coming out of your mouth right now are probably an exact echo of what my Godfather Sirius would have said from under the same sheets when _he _was living here, you know. Punched your father once, too..."

The figure in the bed did not appear to find it nearly as funny as Harry did.

"Draco..." Harry began, and the figure under the sheets went deadly still. Harry glided his hand over the black silk shirt with which he seemed to have such an affliction, probably the last time he'd ever get to do so. Tingles on his skin. Like forgotten kisses.

"Draco," he went on, mustering all the Gryffindor courage he could, "I still don't know what happened last night, my – our friends are useless, but we need to talk."

The other man didn't reply, and Harry found the silence painful.

"Draco... _please,_" Harry whispered, utterly dazed by his own need for these words, "say _something_..."

At long last, a single, soft word escaped from beneath the covers: "Harry..."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is a little different to the rest. What did you think? :) Let me know if you liked it or didn't... I'm writing for you after all! :D And now you've all imagined Hermione pole-dancing in her underwear. You're welcome ;P Love you all, and as always, thank you for reading! -Felix 3**


	4. This chapter has no name

Draco surfaced from under the sea of covers. His hair stuck up in a way that only Harry's should, and his nose was a little pink from the tears, which he was now urgently wiping away.

"Why are you here?" He croaked, and not altogether politely.

"I..." Harry began, "I..."

Why _was _Harry here? His green eyes stared at the floor, clogs turning in his mind but never working anything out. There was no logic here, no reason. Only _need _and _wants _of the heart, which seemed to have reasons the mind knew nothing of.

"I don't know." Harry finally answered, quietly and honestly. "I just... Wanted to see you. I don't know why."

Gray eyes stared at the other boy, the clogs turning in Draco's mind, and working everything out. The Black Vial had not yet worn off. Harry still had his urges... And perhaps, then, if Draco just...

Harry watched, frozen in shock, as Draco gingerly moved from under the rest of the covers, still wrapped in the tight, revealing dress. He ran a hand through his soft blonde hair, and the green eyes watched as it fell around his face again, like the gentlest waterfall Harry had ever seen. For all those reasons his mind knew nothing of, his breath hitched.

After that, Harry didn't bother to breathe again. Malfoy moved towards Harry, and before anyone knew what had happened, he threw his arms around Harry's shoulders. His lips found themselves a home on Harry's, as his legs practically wrapping around the rest of the dark-haired boy: Draco's need to have Harry as close as possible overcame all discrepancy and fear.

And in the tiniest moment, suspended for what felt to Harry like a million years, a tiny path opened between the heart and mind, and the latter came to know all the reasons of the former.

For Harry's million years of his moment with Draco, his entire being became hyper-aware. Draco's hair fluttering against Harry's cheeks, the perfect gentle urgency with which he held Harry close, the temperature of his body, as if it had been tuned to a frequency that made Harry want to lose it...

And then there was his _skin. _If Harry had thought the silk shirt had been the softest thing he'd ever touched, he had been wrong. The feeling of Draco's hands, pressing Harry closer and closer to him... _That _was the long-lost feeling of tingling euphoria that had been on Harry's skin.

Although his mind and body became aware of all of it, Harry's conscious psyche knew of only one thing: Draco's lips. It was the gentlest, softest kiss Harry had ever been given, and the way Draco melted himself into Harry's mouth over and over again made Harry's entire mass tremble.

For the second tiniest moment, Harry kissed back. He kissed back with such force that he threw Draco back against the bed, landing on top of him, and holding him so hard that his fingertips would leave bruises.

Then, everything broke.

Some spiteful, rational edge of Harry's mind came to life.

_You're kissing Malfoy. M.a.l.f.o.y!_

Harry gasped and pulled away, his hand snapping over the lips that wished they were still embedded in Draco's. For the third tiniest moment, Harry stared at the other boy. He was laid back against the bed where Harry had left him; lungs barely breathing and lips quivering, eyes all full of dread and dying hope.

For reasons his heart couldn't understand, Harry ran away.

* * *

**A/N: I must apologise for taking so long to update this, it's been a little crazy down here :P I'm also sorry this chapter is so short (I'm working on the next one, honest!) but I felt that this scene needed one to it's own. The next update will (hopefully) see some of the crazy back, but let me know what you thought of this one :) And if anybody could come up with a title for this chapter, I'd be very grateful, because at current, this chapter has no name... ~Felix **


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